So there’s a weird coincidence: after not thinking about Malcolm in the Middle for years, I just blogged about it yesterday, and today find out that this week the cast had a reunion.
A week or two ago I mentioned that a wild and wonderful coincidence happened to me. What happened was, I was taking the train home from a week’s training in Cardiff and, changing trains in Shrewsbury - having caught the train at Cardiff by the skin of my teeth, a Sliding Doors sort of moment - who should I see on the platform but my London friend the wonderful Paul Wills. Though we both live(d) in Crystal Palace, I never once ran into him there by chance. Yet on a Friday evening in a pretty town in Shropshire ….
We drank cheap wine from the platform’s coffee shop out of plastic cups like a couple of tramps and caught up until my train to Ruabon arrived.
As well as being a very unexpected pleasure, this event was a great relief. See, things like this have often happened to me. There was the time I gave my brother’s Moosehead Beer fridge magnet to some people in Canada and it ended up back in his hands in Australia within 3 or 4 months. The time my dear friend Rob in Calgary found out he had cancer (he’s fine now) and I joked that I’d call the Make a Wish Foundation and arrange a date with his heroine Farrah Fawcett; within 1.5 hours we were acting in a TV movie with her (yes, truly). The very next day I was chatting to some British strangers in a Calgary bookstore, who told me a Small World Story about having just met someone in Alberta who knew a friend of theirs in Colorado. They didn’t believe me at first when I recognised the name and told them that the guy in Colorado was my UK ex’s former boss and climbing partner. And so on, and so on …
These seemingly random and yet magical connections are my favourite thing about life (besides Galaxy chocolate and the love of a good dog), and I was worried that, having recently moved to a small and rather rural North Wales town, they would cease. Oh ye of little faith! The Universe is still ticking along, and I’m still part of it.